


Orange and Yellow

by HundredSunsets



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: I have No Excuse, I've been watching WAY too much Say Yes To The Dress, honestly someone save Barriss she doesn't know what she's doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HundredSunsets/pseuds/HundredSunsets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officially, Luminara is the owner of a shop selling wedding dresses. Unofficially, she's her daughter's would-be matchmaker. </p><p>Barriss would prefer it if she stopped interfering. Especially when a pretty bridesmaid named Ahsoka walks in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange and Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> The AU no one wanted or asked for, but you're getting anyway. 
> 
> As far as the technology's concerned, it's a blend of our world's and theirs. That just seemed to fit best when I started writing.

  
"Yes, absolutely, we do have a range of dresses to suit non-humanoids—no, Aayla, the _yellow_ one—I'm sorry for the interruption, ma'am. As I was saying—Aayla, _please_ use your eyes! That is not yellow, it—I apologise, please excuse me for one moment—oh, just leave it! It isn't important, I'll—hello? Ma'am? Are you still there?"

In place of the client's voice was the dialling tone. Luminara held the receiver away from her ear, closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she'd finished, she set the phone back in its holder, and it took all her resolve not to let her head follow it down to the reception desk and stay there.

Her shop, Universally Bridal, was open for most of the year. Business as usual, whatever the weather. The same couldn't be said for her employees. The usual winter coughs and colds had returned with a vengeance, whittling down her staff of thirteen to just three, including herself. Two, as of that afternoon, when she'd taken pity on poor Gree, who'd shown up to work pale and shivering despite wearing more layers than Luminara would have thought possible.

"I need everyone at their best," she'd told him, pressing a flask of tea into his hands and ushering him out the door, "and I _do_ hope none of you think I'm the sort of person who'd hold a missed day or two under these circumstances against you."

She wasn't. Or at least, she didn't think she was. With the way Barriss behaved, she sometimes wondered if she had unknowingly become the worst sort of both mother and employer, the kind of cruel taskmaster who demanded constant perfection.

Then again, given the way Aayla had just packed it all in and abandoned the row of mannequins in the window in favour of sneaking off to put the kettle on, perhaps not.

Luminara slipped out from behind the desk which, thanks to the lack of personnel—curse the Corellian flu—she'd had to be at for the last few hours in case the phone rang. She sighed, certain that the Besalisk she'd been dealing with when Aayla had proven herself incapable of distinguishing between plain yellow and _daffodil_ would not be calling back. A blessing in disguise, really. Though new, Aayla had proven herself invaluable—dire understanding of colour aside—but she was only one person. She and Luminara couldn't manage multiple clients alone.

Luminara carefully unhooked the yellow bridesmaid's dress and laid it over her arm, taking pains not to crease it as she carried it over the fluffy carpet to a rack of dresses in a similar style—short, with lacy wrist-length sleeves. She plucked out a spare coat hanger and gently slid the shoulders over it. It wouldn't do to rumple the fabric. Universally Bridal hadn't developed and maintained its (admittedly little-known) reputation as the best shop of its kind on Coruscant—maybe even in the Core—by having less-than-pristine dresses around.

She covered the mannequin with a glittery white garment which was far too revealing for Luminara's taste but was apparently the latest fashion on Ryloth. Job done, she followed the sound of the boiling kettle, nudging open the door to the tiny break room to find Aayla leaning against a wall. When she saw Luminara, she stood a little straighter, but didn't jump to attention. Luminara liked that about her, liked her relaxed confidence. Maybe she could teach Barriss a thing or two.

"No more phone calls expected today, right?" Aayla pulled two mugs from the cupboard. "Tea?"

"No appointments either," Luminara confirmed. "And yes please, Aayla."

A minute or so later, there was a steaming cup between her hands. She brought it to her lips, taking a small sip and glancing out the window to watch the rain as it lashed against the pane.

"Your daughter comes home tomorrow, doesn't she?" Aayla set her mug down on the glass table and flopped onto the springy sofa, lekku bouncing against her shoulders as she did.

"I'm picking her up when she lands late tonight," Luminara corrected, making no move to take the space on the sofa beside Aayla. She was content to stand. "She'll be here at the shop tomorrow, though, yes." Barriss was just coming to the end of her first term at university on Alderaan. Her talks with Luminara over the past three months suggested she was studying hard and was, by all accounts, a model student. It was what most mothers dreamed of hearing, and yet the way Barriss never mentioned her social life worried Luminara. Did she have friends? Maybe someone who was more than a friend? Whenever Luminara tried to ask, Barriss changed the subject.

For as long as Luminara could remember, Barriss had been quiet and shy. She'd adopted her from Mirial sixteen years ago, and even as a toddler Barriss wasn't talkative at all. The people from the adoption agency speculated that it might be linked to the sudden loss of her birth family at such a young age, but Luminara believed that Barriss was naturally not much of a speaker.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Given the right topic, and the right listeners, Barriss could go on for hours, her face becoming more animated by the second. It was probably part of the reason she'd always enjoyed being in the shop with Luminara. Some of the staff had known her since Luminara first brought her home and loved having her around. When she wasn't up to her eyes in schoolwork—which, nine times out of ten, she was, what with all the extra classes she'd chosen to take on—she was wonderfully helpful, running to fetch pins here, grabbing a sewing kit to take up a hem there.

But therein lay the issue. Barriss was _too_ helpful. At her age she should be out getting up to mischief with her peers, not hanging around her mother's shop and being far nicer and politer than any teenager ought to be.

Still, Luminara had to confess that the prospect of an extra pair of hands tomorrow was an appealing one. It would be very quiet, with only a handful of appointments scheduled—they were never overly busy in the dead of winter—but finishing with ten bridesmaids, arriving with a bride to pick their dresses. Bridesmaids could be nightmares. A difficult bride could be dealt with, but difficult bridesmaids were another matter. And ten of them sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

It was easier when the bride wasn't hell-bent on having them all match, but when she was... Oh, Force, it didn't bear thinking about. There would always be one who didn't like the particular shade or cut or shape that had been selected for them, and sometimes they'd argue amongst themselves, or worse, argue with the bride. Or, worst of all, they'd pick a fight with the bride's family and it would all end in a blazing row. At least two people would be sobbing and another would storm out, making sure to slam the doors with as much noise as possible. Those were the times Luminara would entertain the idea of early retirement to some uninhabited planet in the Outer Rim where she'd never have to hear the word 'wedding' again. Breathable atmosphere optional.

She took another sip of her tea and hoped that between herself, her daughter and Aayla, they'd get through tomorrow without anyone declaring war.

It was a long shot, but everyone needed a dream.

  
       

                                                •*•*•*•*•*•

 

They showed up precisely on time, all Human, all impeccably dressed. With the exception of two or three, Barriss thought the bridesmaids could have passed for sisters. Twins, even, with some of them. She didn't have a hope of telling them apart and so avoided addressing them by name, though it was easy to tell who the bride was.

 _I know I look calm and collected,_  Padmé's tone and body language seemed to imply, _but if one little thing goes wrong, then may the Force have mercy on your souls._

And it appeared that something _was_ about to go wrong. Barriss, adjusting her cloth headband over her hair, wondered if she ought to make herself scarce.

"Ahsoka is late." Padmé had refused to take a seat, watching the door with her arms folded.

"Ahsoka is always late," one of the bridesmaids—Cordé? Saché? Neither of them?—soothed. She flashed anxious eyes at Barriss, who froze. What _she_ was supposed to do? Go out and find this Ahsoka? Report her missing?

"You're our last appointment of the afternoon," she informed the group, making nervous eye-contact with Padmé. "A little delay won't—"

The bell tinkled and the door crashed open.

"Sorry, sorry!" A Togruta girl, no older than Barriss and—oh _no_ — _really pretty_ , stumbled over the threshold, panting like she'd just run a marathon. "Padmé, I'm so sorry, the power cut out at home because of the storm last night and then I couldn't find—well, anything, really, and—"

"It's fine, Ahsoka," Padmé sighed fondly, and Cordé/Saché looked relieved. Ahsoka beamed and waved to the other bridesmaids, oblivious to the tension that had been brewing before her arrival. Versé (or possibly Yané) managed a half-hearted wave back. Most of the rest glared at her.

"Can I take your coat?" Barriss asked, holding out an arm. Ahsoka turned to face her, started to smile, and then, as their eyes met, her face seemed to get stuck.

"Oh. Hi. I, uh, I didn't see you there. I'm Ahsoka."

"Barriss." Why was this girl looking at her like that? Was there something on her face? Other than her tattoos, of course. "Um," she said after a pause, "your coat?"

"My... Right, yes! My coat!" Ahsoka wriggled out of it, dropping it into Barriss' waiting hands. Barriss couldn't help grimacing on impact. Ahsoka must have set off in the rain. She noticed Barriss' expression and winced.

"The sky kind of opened up when I stepped outside." She shrugged apologetically. Adorably, Barriss thought, then quickly shoved the word aside. They stood where they were, unspeaking, the silence growing uncomfortable, until Aayla swooped in to unwittingly save the day.

"Hello. Padmé, yes? I'm Aayla. So, what sort of dresses were you thinking for this lot?"

Ahsoka looked like she was going to say something, then thought better of it and moved away to join the others, leaving Barriss to hang up the damp coat. Having done so, she wandered round the corner to the reception desk, where Luminara was tapping away on a datapad. Noticing Barriss, she glanced up and smiled.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes, it's... Do I look strange to you?"

"Strange?" Luminara's brow furrowed. "Barriss, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, I just..." She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on her shirt, just for something to do. "One of the bridesmaids seemed a bit... confused by me?"

Luminara switched the datapad off, looking intrigued. "Which one?"

"Ahsoka. I don't think you saw her, she wasn't here when the rest came in." Barriss didn't like the way her mother placed her chin in her hands and raised her eyebrows. "She's about my age—"

"She is?" Oh, help. Barriss knew that face. "And... what is this girl like?"

"She's a Togruta," said Barriss, unwilling to get into this conversation. Not again.

Luminara nodded. "I see." That was it. She didn't say anything more, turning her attention back to the datapad. Barriss let herself breathe. Maybe this talk wasn't heading down its usual road.

"So," Luminara continued, "is she pretty?"

"Mother, please!"

  
                                              •*•*•*•*•*•

 

Ahsoka looked ridiculous. Barriss was ashamed of herself for thinking it, but it was true. The other girls pulled off their dresses with ease, but Ahsoka didn't look right out of her jeans and t-shirt. It really didn't help that the dress she had on was yellow. Which would have been fine, if Ahsoka wasn't _orange_.

"Padmé pulled it off the rack by the back wall," Aayla, following Barriss' line of sight, murmured. "It would look good on any of the others, but Ahsoka..."

"She clashes with it," Barriss whispered back, feeling guilty for saying so. Ahsoka, lining up beside her fellow bridesmaids, shifted from foot to foot, gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

"Let's hope Padmé doesn't decide that's the one she wants them in." Aayla folded her arms, watching Ahsoka squirm. "Poor girl."

"Should we interfere?"

Aayla shook her head. "Not with this. I would not like to take on Padmé. One of those bridesmaids told me that she started planning two days after she got engaged." Ahsoka looked over at them then, her eyes wide and pleading for help. Barriss pulled what she hoped was a sympathetic face and, just for a moment, Ahsoka smiled. Barriss felt heat creep into her cheeks and turned her face away, silently praying that Ahsoka hadn't noticed.

Aayla frowned, gaze flicking from Barriss to Ahsoka. Then her puzzled expression morphed into the shock of enlightenment before settling into smug comprehension.

"So," she began in an undertone, "I take it you're going to get her number?"

"Oh, not you too," Barriss groaned, covering her face with one hand. "My mother has been trying to set me up with everyone around the same age as me to set foot in the door for the past three years."

Aayla placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing in solidarity. "I know how parents can be. Luminara just worries for you."

"Yes," Barriss agreed, biting the inside of her cheek. "But I'm alright, really."

"She says you work too hard. You don't give yourself a break." Aayla quirked an eyebrow. "You're a lot like her."

"I..."

" _Not_ that one!" Padmé, perched on the edge of an armchair, was stabbing a finger in the general direction of maybe-Cordé-maybe-Versé. The dusty rose, strapless number looked fine from where Barriss was standing, and the bridesmaid wearing it would have been a picture in any old thing. But Padmé was not Barriss. "It's knee-length," she hissed, dropping her voice the way most people did for particularly filthy swear words. "And the skirt is pleated."

"It can be altered," Barriss started. "We can make it longer, shorter, anything." Padmé whipped around to face her, and Barriss shrank back from her frosty glare.

"Thank you, but it doesn't fit the colour scheme." Her tone was civil, her smile was cordial, but one look into Padmé's eyes was enough to shut Barriss up. She wasn't going to argue with someone who, seven months before her wedding, already had a _colour scheme._

Padmé softened, however, when she caught sight of Ahsoka, the very portrait of misery. The dress itself wasn't the problem. The lacy sleeves and their delicate flower patterns were tasteful, and the satin skirt belled out at the waist, reaching the mid-thigh. But Ahsoka would never get away with wearing that shade, even if the wedding guests all closed their eyes. It was as if whoever had designed it had sat down and thought about what would look absolutely abysmal on orange skin, thus excluding a sizeable chunk of both the Twi'lek and Togruta population from ever being able to consider it. Probably a Human. That sort of thing just wouldn't occur to them.

"Oh, Ahsoka. You can take that off." Ahsoka's shoulders slumped in relief. "I loved that dress, but it needs to flatter everyone." That was unexpected. Barriss had seen brides demote friends and relatives from bridesmaids to regular wedding guests rather than compromise. "Besides," Padmé added, "I think I've worked out which one I want all of you to be in. Everyone look at Ellé."

Ellé, conveniently placed in the middle of the line-up, was only too happy to give the others a twirl as the room's attention focused on her. Deep blue velvet, with a long, slightly puffy skirt and thin, off-the-shoulder straps, the dress really would be perfect on all the bridesmaids. But Ahsoka did not join the others in clapping and laughing. She was chewing on her lower lip, forehead creased. Barriss was surprised to find Aayla mirroring the expression.

"What is it?" she asked under her breath. The last thing she wanted was Padmé overhearing. Aayla gestured to her lekku.

"Lekku are sensitive. Velvet is deeply uncomfortable against them. I'm not sure how I could describe it to you, but it's... unpleasant, to say the least."

"Oh dear." Now Barriss saw the problem. Two of Ahsoka's lekku were draped over her shoulders, where they'd be touching the material the whole time. Barriss had half a mind to collect her nerve and say something to Padmé. Ahsoka, who looked resigned to her unhappiness, clearly wasn't going to. But Barriss had no desire to cause a fuss, and Ahsoka's lack of protest was telling. She didn't want to be a nuisance.

"I... I can sort this," Barriss whispered to Aayla, whose eyebrows shot up.

"You?"

Barriss set her shoulders. "Me."

Aayla smirked. "That'll score you some points with Ahsoka."

Why, why, _why_ couldn't anyone, just for once, mind their own business?

 

                                              •*•*•*•*•*•

 

Great. Just great. Ahsoka would be lucky if she made it through the wedding without screaming. Velvet. _Ugh. No._ And to top it all off, the zip on this _kriffing_ yellow... _thing_ was jammed. And that cute Mirialan girl, Barriss, was right outside the door, waiting to collect the dresses once they were off. Well, she was going to be waiting a while for Ahsoka's.

Ahsoka angled herself so that her back was to the mirror in the tiny changing cubicle, craning her neck to see her reflection. As she'd feared, the zip was caught on the fabric halfway down her back and would almost certainly require another pair of hands to work free.

"Come _on_ ," she muttered to herself, scrabbling for the zip. "Not this. Not right now." The zip didn't budge.

There was a hesitant tap on the door. "Ahsoka? Is something wrong?" Barriss. Hell.

"No, everything's—" Ahsoka bent too far backwards and stumbled, steadying herself on the clothes rail. _Okay. Okay. I'm never getting this off by myself._ She steeled herself and slid the bolt on the door back, sticking her head around it. Barriss blinked at her. "Uh. Hey. You have got to help me."

Barriss tilted her head. "With... what, sorry?"

"The zip's stuck. Listen, I—" Somewhere down the row, a door creaked. Without stopping to think, Ahsoka grabbed Barriss by the wrist, and, ignoring her startled yelp, yanked her inside, slamming the bolt into place with her free hand.

If Ahsoka had thought the cubicle was small before, being nose-to-nose with a relative stranger shrunk it further.

"The zip," mumbled Barriss, staring over Ahsoka's head. Which took some effort, given their height difference. "You... mentioned the zip?"

"Yeah. Uh, hang on a second." There wasn't really room to turn around, but somehow, Ahsoka managed it. "So," she said, making her voice as light as she could as she stared at the wall, "you work here?" _Of_ course _she works here! What kind of question was that?_

"Actually, my mother runs the place." Ahsoka heard Barriss crouch down and start to work away at the zip. "I'm back from university for the winter break, and I've always liked it here, so..." Barriss trailed off as Ahsoka felt her trying to rub the zip free.

"You're at university?" She was that much older than Ahsoka?

"First—ah!" Barriss let out a hiss of breath. "Sorry. I thought the material was going to tear. First year. I'm nineteen. And you?"

"Eighteen," Ahsoka told her. "Last year of school," she added, trying to sound flippant and hoping Barriss wouldn't write her off as some little schoolgirl. "I'm an adult," she tacked on, then clenched her teeth, glad that Barriss couldn't see her screwing up her face. Why had she gone and said that? She couldn't have sounded less like an adult if she'd tried.

"I know." In what could only be described as a miracle, Barriss wasn't laughing at her. "Ahsoka, I saw your reaction to the dress Padmé chose for you and the others."

"Oh, _that_." Ahsoka watched a spider inch across the ceiling. "I mean, I love Padmé, I've known her for years, but I think sometimes she doesn't realise I'm not... you know. Human. It's the lekku," she said, forgetting that Barriss wouldn't see and absently pointing at the front two. "They feel everything kind of intensely, and velvet—"

"—is horrible on them," Barriss finished. "I've heard. But I've thought of a way around that."

"Really?" Ahsoka perked up. She'd take any solution that worked.

"It might not be practical when we try it," Barriss warned her. There was a crackling noise. "Yes! I think I'm getting somewhere with this!" Ahsoka could feel Barriss' fingers brushing her skin, soft and gentle, and fought not to shiver.

"You were saying about the dress?" she prompted, channelling all her focus into ensuring it didn't come out as a squeak.

"When" —there was another tug on the zip— "you all come in for fittings and alterations, we can measure around your lekku. It'll have to be all three. I don't know if you know this—oh, that's silly, of course you do—but the back one isn't long enough yet to just... dangle."

"Even if it did, it would still brush the skirt." Ahsoka hadn't even considered that one until Barriss had brought it up. "And then what?"

"Then we sew another type of material over where they'll lie. Once the dress is on, they'll be covered, so no one will know, and you—"

"I won't feel anything!" Ahsoka declared, wanting to jump up and cheer. "You'd do that? For me?"

"I... It might not be me doing it, I'll probably be back over on Alderaan by then, and, well, we always do whatever is in the best interests of the customer..." Ahsoka didn't hear the rest, because Barriss was mumbling, voice muffled by all the fabric in her face. She gave a small smile that she struggled not to let bloom into a fully-fledged, tooth-exposing beam.

"All the same, thank you. I mean it." Ahsoka hesitated, pressing her hands together. "So... how long are you on Coruscant?"

"Hmm? Oh, I'm home for the next three weeks."

Ahsoka nodded. Then, gathering her resolve, she scrunched her eyes shut and took the plunge.

"Since you're around for a while, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to— _aaaah!_ " The zip, finally loose, slid the rest of the way down her back, and Barriss, who must not have been expecting it to move so suddenly and was putting a lot of pressure on it, shrieked as she nearly fell back, grabbing Ahsoka's waist for support. But Ahsoka wasn't prepared for the arms that wrapped around her middle out of nowhere and overbalanced, throwing one hand out to catch anything that would keep the two of them upright.

What she caught just so happened to be the bolt on the door, which slid back as she latched onto it, flinging the white, rectangular expanse of wood out. Ahsoka twisted around, flailing, both arms spread to brace herself between the mirror and the opposite wall, but knew before she'd half turned that she'd misjudged, and she went crashing down.

Then she was on the floor, the door wide open, several shocked faces peering in at her lying on top of Barriss, lips a hair's breadth from touching.

   

                                           •*•*•*•*•*•

 

Barriss would very much have liked the ground to open up and swallow her. That moment, please, if it wasn't too much trouble.

"Huh," Ahsoka breathed, almost _talking into Barriss' mouth_ , "I guess you figured out the zip?"

"I suppose I did," she tried to say, but all that came out was something high-pitched and unintelligible. Ahsoka's eyes were sky-blue and, it had to be admitted, rather beautiful. Barriss turned her head to see their audience, unable to look any of them in the face. "This is not what it looks like," she insisted. Weakly.

Ellé and the blonde girl, Eirtaé, seemed equal parts bemused and entertained. Aayla, just behind them, gave Barriss two thumbs up, which she could have done without. But worst of all was Luminara, who stood pushing back the curtain that hung in place of a door to the changing area like she'd just walked in, raising one fist in celebration and mouthing _Well done, Barriss!_

Then, just when Barriss thought her mortification had reached its limit, Padmé appeared beside Luminara, apparently come to investigate all the commotion. Eirtaé whirled around to face her.

"I _told_ you Ahsoka would make a move!" she crowed. "Pay up, Naberrie!"

Barriss thought she might have heard Padmé say something about how she had never agreed to any bets, but the blood was pounding in her ears as Ahsoka hauled herself up and held out a hand to Barriss.

"What I meant to say," Ahsoka said quietly, a barely-suppressed smile playing about her lips as she pulled Barriss to her feet, "was that since you're here for a while, did you want come out with me tomorrow night? And... if you want to hold on, that's fine by me."

Dazed, Barriss realised she hadn't let go of Ahsoka's hand.

"Tomorrow night?" she repeated. "Yes. Why not? Yes."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 'Hey,' I hear you ask, 'where's Sabé?'
> 
> Well, the truth is that I am a secret Padmé/Sabé shipper, but I do still like Anidala, so I wrote this so that it's up to the reader which one she's marrying. Maybe Sabé is there as a bridesmaid and Barriss has given up trying to put names to faces, or maybe she isn't. Your choice.


End file.
